With Eyes To See
by thisisGoA
Summary: Aragorn is a young, wandering ranger with the burden of his heritage heavy on his heart. Legolas is a blind young elf, with a thousand painful memories behind him as he lives in selfimposed isolation from his kind. Part One in the Namaarie Legacy
1. Empty Shadows

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The Namaarie Legacy

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With Eyes to See

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By Glimpse of Angels

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Summary:

Aragorn is a young, wandering ranger with the burden of his heritage heavy on his heart. Legolas is a blind young elf, with a thousand painful memories behind him as he lives in self-imposed isolation from his kind. If the two can come to understand each other, it may mean the greatest friendship that Arda has ever seen. Part One in "The Namaarie Legacy"

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-Disclaimer-

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For the sake of protocol: I don't own Tolkien's work; I do own my own. If you're reading LotR fan-fiction in the first place you probably know the difference. :-)

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Glimpse's Precursory Preamble

(More commonly know as the Foreword)

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Friends and fans on know me better as Skande, or "The One and Only Skande," and for the benefit of all who might be wondering I have not abandoned (most) stories in that account. I have, however, realized it's a rather random, slapdash collection of junk, where what I've always wanted to do is a Legolas/Aragorn friendship series. Hence, the Namaarie Legacy is born under (in my opinion) the relatively thespian _nom de plume,_ "Glimpse of Angels."

Since I'm not expecting an enthusiastic reception for this series, I'll take time to articulate beforehand that I have written it purely for my own entertainment. Love it, hate it; it's all the same to me. Although I'm hoping for a late-in-life career as an author, I can guarantee I won't spend my life writing Lord of the Rings Fan-fiction, so consequently it won't make much difference. I am a real person with a real life, (including church, family, and a killer accelerated schoolwork course) but I do love writing, as well as Lord of the Rings. I'm also a little leery of plying my hand at FictionPress, therefore my LotR scribbles will see the light of day here and here only.

Concerning my vantage point on the Middle Earth of my stories, I am of the fan-fiction-popular belief that Aragorn was raised as a son to Elrond from a young age, Legolas was an only child of about 2800 during the War of the Ring with little concrete history provided by Tolkien, and the two shared a deep bond of a friendship bordering on brotherhood left sorely underrated in the movies. (As well as in the books, although I hesitate to state this since authors dissing Tolkien are often run out of town on a rail…) To introduce a red herring to the picture, I also believe the Glorfindel of Gondolin and Rivendell were one and the same. :-) Why? Because Glorfindel is also an undervalued hero replaced by an overrated Arwen! '''grumble grumble'''

"Stoked," as is mentioned in my profile, is my brother's Garage Band. They aren't popular and you won't find their songs on Napster, but they sure do tear it up and I have a lot of fun writing their songs. Many of the lyrics will appear in my stories, and I would appreciate your courtesy in letting them remain there. But again, I've never been averse to a polite request. :-)

In conclusion, I have an errant fixation for the frequent usage of unfamiliar words, and although I try my best to avoid this in writing, obsession is often possessive, and if any part— (axiom/adage/aphorism/) ;-) of any of my stories appear confusing, difficult or perplexing in any way shape or form, you need only let me know and I will do my best to repair it! I love hearing from anyone who reads, whether it be by way of review or by e-mail, so don't hesitate to drop me a line—I can guarantee I don't bite! Can't wait to hear from you all, and have fun reading!

-Glimpse

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Chapter One: Empty Shadows

"It takes not eyes, but sight, to see."

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He was in darkness. But that should not have surprised him, for he was constantly in darkness. In his dreary world of twilit haze, it was not so much what _was _there as what was _not_ there that reminded him every minute of every day what he was and would always be.

In this particular place, however, the darkness did not always remain. Tonight, it mercifully granted him some respite from the driving madness of the shadows, allowing him a long-sought glimpse of woods and leaves, lush and green in the last days of summer. He rejoiced at the sight, so often taken advantage of by the rest of the world. To him, a glimpse of them was as a glimpse of paradise.

But it was the light—oh, the light!—that thrilled his heart, that washed away his soul's tarnished shell, if only for a moment. The light streamed through the trees, reflecting off the air itself, brighter than the stars he could only remember. It was perfect. It was paradise. It was really, truly, there.

And then it was gone.

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Back in the death-hold of darkness, Legolas gasped as he surfaced from his dream, breaking into reality like a bubble rushing towards the surface of a lake. He was sitting upright now, and the nothingness that met his eyes sent his heart plummeting back to its perpetually low level. Regardless of how many times he had awoken from that dream, he was never fully able to brace himself for the familiar disappointment of reality. Of knowing, that no matter what, it was only a dream, and in another hour the traces of light and visual memory that remained from it would be gone once more.

Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, he picked up a long wooden staff from the ground beside him, standing in one smooth motion and reaching forward into the darkness with one hand outstretched. His slender fingers touched the air, which became cooler as he stepped forward, coming to the cave entrance in five paces. There the air was considerably more chilled, and from the sounds around him he could easily tell the sun had not yet risen.

Such estimations came now with the fluidity of breath, yet it had not always been so. For although the memories were lost to him save in dreams, there had once been a time when Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, had not been blind...

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The ledge of earth far above the sheltered, and for the most part hidden valley where the elf now sat, his eyes staring blankly out into the emptiness that was his world, was one of the woodland elf's favorite haunts. He felt more at ease when he was in familiar territory for one, but that was not the key reason.

Living in a nameless, unmapped, land somewhere between Mirkwood and the section of the Misty Mountains that separated Rivendell from the Gladden fields, he was finally free of the eyes that had burned into his back with disgust and pity wherever he went. Here came the woodland creatures to rest and play, and they afforded him the companionship he so desperately craved. Their primitive minds were not capable of prejudice, nor hate, nor pity, and the bond between himself and them kept him alive.

Everyone needs to feel loved… needed, wanted.

After the ill-fated battle that had left him blind for life so long ago, his skills and talents had been stripped away. No longer able to aid those around him, he became instead useless, a burden. The shame had driven him into the ground.

Reduced to relying on others for his every need, it began when the proud, strong prince of Mirkwood had been unable to prevent himself from being wounded… Or his mother from being killed. In the blow that had crushed him beyond repair, he had been informed bluntly. His mother, the Queen of Mirkwood, was dead. He, the Prince of Mirkwood was blind for life.

The palace, once a place of life, became a haunted, echoing cavern. The servants scurried about as quietly as possible, steering clear of the handicapped prince and his father, the latter alternating between days of quiet seclusion and ranting, furious bouts of grief and anger.

Legolas was never aware of the servants coming in. They brought his food, and likely, straightened the room while he slept, but when he awoke they would be gone. The healers came occasionally to change the bandages over his eyes, but they rarely spoke and never offered the crumbling prince either hope or comfort.

Harshly condemning himself for his own painful inadequacy, Legolas began retraining himself, determined to live with what had happened. Sneaking out in the dead of night became routine, and he taught himself to use his bow again. He was delighted to discover that even before his debilitation, he had really not relied on his eyes all that much in his accuracy. With a little fine-tuning, he quickly regained his former precision.

But not his pride.

The stares. The whispered comments. The pity. The rejection.

He fought to retain sanity in his shapeless world of loneliness, of shapes and shadows and utter hopelessness. It'd been months. His father continued his self-imposed isolation, leaving the wavering kingdom in the hands of advisors, who did their best to fill their king's shoes while he grieved. In what was, perhaps, the cruelest blow, he ignored Legolas entirely.

Legolas, having made for himself a staff out of the forest's strongest oaken wood, avoided contact and communication with anyone around him. Although regaining his former agility in treetop boughs was a bit more difficult than he had hoped, the trees themselves, with whom he had always shared a unique connection, helped him immensely. They grieved to see their beloved prince in such pain, and eagerly gave him what comfort they could in their own way.

And yet, it was not enough.

He eventually managed the courage to go to his father, but in vain. He stood for hours outside the chamber door, pleading for the King to listen. Silence from within. Muffled commands to leave him to his misery. Nothing at all.

Shedding the tears of pain and anger and frustration that he had denied himself for so long, Legolas fled back to his room. And farther.

Packing up only weapons and clothes, it was a simple matter of walking past the guards on either side of the gate. Theirs were the last pitying eyes he would ever endure, he vowed, for he would never return to the place where he no longer belonged.

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Since then, he had companionship of no man or elf. The woods and the hills, the mountains and springs were his family, the trees and wolves and eagles his sole comfort. A year of wandering had brought him to this place. A happenstance landslide had carried him into the bowl of the valley long years ago, where he had landed, bruised and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

He had known instantly that this place would be his home.

The trees sang in joy for the firstborn in their midst. They looked past his outward blemishes. The wolves howled in welcome and the birds cried out for him to stay. The water was peaceful and constant, the foliage rich and abundant. Here a variety of fruit trees grew, as well as edible roots and vegetables. Before, he had hunted for his food, even though meat was not his first choice for a meal. Upon arriving in the valley, he had been reluctant to blemish the harmony of life in his new home by hunting, and had since subsided in contentment upon what plants he could find. He did hunt now, but he tried to do so as infrequently as possible.

He had been stranded without food when winter had struck early and without warning, as he had since learned it was prone to do, but had somehow survived the season on fish, cutting a hole in the ice near the cave and leaving handmade nets out overnight. It was barely worth it, since he would be lucky to catch one or two small fish a day, and the net needed constant repair in the places where the bigger ones had managed to break free, but it kept him. That was all that mattered.

In winters since he had not been caught unprepared, and kept caches of fruit and berries in many of his dozens of refuges across the valley. Of them, only two were in caves, and these only out of necessity. Blind or no, he still could barely abide caves, since these had been an old childhood phobia, and in a way still were. Those he had reluctantly chosen were emergency store-places, such as the one where he had spent the night before, since it was relatively large and open.

His favorite and most constant home was close to the center of the valley, on a high slope from which a stream flowed into the river that cut the valley in two. Here there grew a mighty tree, so tall that its top most branches challenged the surrounding mountaintops for the resting place of the eagles. The tree had been nearly completely hollowed in the ages before Legolas had discovered it, and the lowest level alone was cavernous. A little explorative climbing showed that there were additional hollows higher in the tree, and with time, a little effort, and some the addition of some crude rope ladders for emergencies, thy were connected, cleaned out, and prepared for use.

Since he had not brought a horse with him when he had left Mirkwood as he had been uncertain of his ability to keep one once had reached wherever he was going, he was compelled to conduct all of his exploration of the valley on foot. Despite this, he really had nothing better to do, and within two years he knew the place as well as he had ever known Mirkwood.

As much as he had lamented his loss of sight, and still did, living without it gave him a new perspective on life, and indeed, opened up entire new worlds to his senses. His hearing developed further the more he relied on it, and so he learned to pick up the softest sound, or even a shift of air around an object. His movements gained stealth, since he was now able to realize just how much noise he made himself during movement. He learned to tell plants and animals apart by smell; and feeling them— or even the air itself, told him volumes about both where he was and what was around him.

Even still—even with all he had gained, the longer he tried to convince himself that he was happy now, the more he realized how miserable he really was, and the more acutely he became aware of all he had lost.

And as he struggled to fight his way through a whole new kind of life, he was never able to let himself forget, that inside, he was only empty.

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"_I feel an emptiness inside_

_Like part of me already died_

_When I pretended to go on_

_Like everything's okay_

_Then all we built began to fall_

_As I began to lose it all_

_I shut my eyes and set me free_

_Cause I was scared to see_

_That we weren't what we used to be."_

_-Hoobastank_

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Days flew by, unmarked and unheeded. Summer's lingering tendrils soon dissipated entirely, and fall blew briskly by. Winter's chill nagged at the heels of the wind, stirring the bare branches of the forest and sending the woodland animals scurrying for shelter. One of these woodland creatures took the form of a lone, golden-haired elf, who prepared for the approaching season with the same urgency and caution as did the rest of the valley's inhabitants.

In a high chamber of the Oak, a small wood fire burned atop a large round hearth in the center of the room. The floor, walls and ceiling of this room were all oiled to a fire-proof sheen, and strings of herbs and roots hung from the walls. Skin pouches of fruit, berries, and water lined rough shelves along the walls, made of intermeshed twigs held together with bark twine. The natural knotholes in the trunk that allowed a view of the land below had been covered with interwoven pine branches, thick enough to keep out snow and wind alike. This was the fire room, but minus the hearth, the other two chambers in the tree looked much the same. For the bottom room Legolas had fashioned a sturdy door of logs, and now used only this to enter and exit the tree, where he planned to spend the winter. The bottom chamber itself was the largest, and was fairly brimming with firewood and extra pine boughs for bedding.

Legolas wasn't worried about running out of water, since he could always melt the snow, but he needed to be sure he had enough food to last the winter. As such, he had spent the day fishing, making the trip back to the Oak several times to deposit his catch.

It was now nearly dark, and the wind was picking up. The scent of the air told him that it would freeze that night at the least, and very likely snow. And yet, as he stood at a knothole in the fire room, trying to sense the atmosphere of the valley, he was still uneasy.

Something wasn't right.

The fire was roaring steadily, so he knew it would burn until he got back. He pulled on his cloak and fur-lined tunic—both longtime memories from Mirkwood—and retrieved his staff from where it leaned against the wall by the ladder. On second thought only, he shoved an additional short dagger into his belt, leaving his other weapons where they were in the chamber above him.

Descending the swaying ladder, he hesitated only briefly before heading out into the blistering gale that blew vehemently against him, deterring his progress only slightly, since it's howling disallowed him from counting on hearing to navigate. Unfazed, he hunched his shoulders into the wind and thrust his staff out before him, letting it tell the way as he shoved forward into he knew not what.

Left, right, left right. The soft tap of the wood on the dry ground was lost in the flurry, and as the safety of the Oak faded behind him, the snow began to fall.

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	2. Of Wolves and Rangers

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Chapter Two: Of Wolves and Rangers

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"_I hide behind these eyes of mine,_

_Cause they protect me from the world_

_And I don't know what I'm missing,_

_Cause I never have been told._

_And when I reach inside of me, _

_I want more than emptiness_

_I want to feel that something's there,_

_Though I can't tell what it is."_

_-Stoked_

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He'd been traveling for weeks. He was tired, hungry, cold, and he was still leagues from the Hidden Valley. He just wanted to rest. It was why he was headed there: It was home, and would always be so to him. A haven of elves, and he a human. It oftentimes seemed strange to other elves, those of Greenwood or Lorien, for example, that the infinitely wise Lord of Rivendell would take in a foster son out of the Edain race, Dunedain blood or no. It was out of the ordinary, but then again, he wasn't exactly an ordinary Ranger.

It'd been years since he'd ridden back into the courtyard of the Last Homely House with his twin "brothers", both elves. His father had taken him aside, and his life took an abrupt turn as he learned of his royal heritage. He was desperate to sort out his stormy emotions, as well as the complicated angle presented by his new-found love of Arwen, Elrond's daughter and princess of Imladris.

And he'd thought things could not become more complicated.

Well, he'd been wrong before. In his turmoil, he'd joined the rangers, and had wandered far and long with them ever since. Evil creatures were crawling out of their shadowed caves right and left, in a wave of darkness unseen since before the Last Alliance. As such, the Dunedain had been hard pressed to keep them at bay, and had received precious little rest in over three years. As Aragorn tried to convince himself, he was long overdue a visit home.

However, nature it seemed, was intent on conspiring against that particular plan.

He'd altered his course drastically to allow for shelter from the western winds that threatened to blow him off his feet, and had since wandered into an area unfamiliar to him. Unfortunately, it was also one of the few blank areas on the worn map folded into his pack. The first flakes of snow were beginning to sting his face, and it didn't take him long to realize that he would quickly be in deep trouble. Winter came swift and harsh in these lands, and any soul unfortunate enough to be caught in it, especially in the initial onslaught, was shown no mercy. And traveling alone in a merciless land was the next closest thing to inviting death.

Strider, Ranger of the north, Estel, adopted son of Elrond, and Aragorn son of Arathorn, future King of men, did not plan on dying any time soon.

Gripping the sheathed hilt of the long sword at his belt in one hand and pulling his whipping cloak tighter about him with the other, he stoically trudged on into the deepening chill.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf's haunting cry split the night.

_Strange—_ Aragorn frowned. _That sound came... from beneath me. But that's not possible— _

And then he was falling.

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Legolas froze, his head snapping up as a wolf's call echoed through the forest, its source close enough to chill his blood.

They were hunting. But what was to say that they weren't hunting him?

Assessing the situation took all of an instant, and then he pulled his staff close to his body and took off lightly up the slope. Wolves were more reluctant to follow to high ground, but this way the wind was also in their favor. He was headed up a narrow box canyon that knifed up out of the valley, and here the cliffs sloped at such an angle that they were nearly touching at the top. Short, gnarled trees and dense shrubs grew at the peaks, so that even in broad daylight, very little light ever reached the canyon floor. At the very end, a thundering cascade of water gushed out of the rock wall halfway up the cliff, pooling below and forming the river that flowed into the lake in the bowl of the valley.

This shady haven had long been another sanctuary to Legolas, especially since, for some reason, the wolves seemed content to avoid it, even if it meant giving up a chase. Tonight, however, they must have been hungry, for their signaling calls followed him as he fled up the valley, his long strides and surefootedness no longer hampered by his physical impediment. In this place, sight was irrelevant to survival, but strength, wit, and endurance were vital.

He was brought up short by an alarmed cry from somewhere far above him, and the shock of hearing a sound… nay, a voice, from another living being after so long, caught him off guard. The next thing he knew, a heavy weight caught him full in the back, and his chest slammed into the rocks below with enough force to drive the air from his body.

Though his lungs felt paralyzed, he rolled instinctively, trying to get rid of the wolf on his back, and another took that moment to latch onto his left calf. His most immediate threat snarled and snapped for his throat, but it was an easy matter of bringing his knees up beneath it and kicking it off. The one on his leg pulled away after a harsh kick to the muzzle. Legolas knew he was simply lucky that these two had been ahead of the others, for if they had brought him down amongst the whole pack, he would have assuredly been dead by now.

Even as he began running again, he heard the splash as whoever had fallen hit the lake. It had taken a bit longer than it should have for the creature to drop to the canyon floor, so he guessed the being had managed to break his fall slightly by grabbing at the foliage around him as he fell. That gave him less to worry about, since he had a slight chance that the stranger was still conscious.

On his part, there was no question in Legolas' mind that he should help this person. He didn't care who they were, and he certainly wasn't naïve enough to hope that this one amongst a million would overlook the elf's disability simply for the sake of having saved his life. Because in his own life, Legolas had saved countless others, and rarely, if ever, had he ever seen some form of gratitude in return. But as a warrior he had gotten used to it. Now… He couldn't even save another's life, never mind being thanked for it.

And yet, he thought, that might have changed. Once again, he had a chance to make a difference. And by the Valar, he wasn't going to waste it.

He had reached the end of the valley by now, where the footing was composed of large boulders, wet with the mist from the falls. For an elf, it shouldn't have been hard, but Legolas knew that with his disability, he needed to keep every sense trained on keeping his footing, or it would be death for both he and whoever else was out there.

He paused at the edge of the lake, straining to feel the stranger's presence over the rush of the falls. The wolves were gaining, and he pulled out his dagger to meet the threat behind him even as he scanned the darkness before.

"Where are you?" He called out at last as he waded out into the lake. The wolves were nearly upon him. The sound of his own voice was odd in his ears. At one time, he had spoken to himself and the animals around him, but he had given that up long since. It was nothing compared to the sound of another's voice, however, and he presently heard a moan from somewhere in front of him. That was all the incentive he needed. Shoving the dagger back into his belt, he pushed off and with strong, sure strokes, quickly reached the limp form that floated in the water.

The man was clearly human, and barely conscious, but Legolas had no time to ponder this. Several of the wolves had entered the water behind him, and others were bounding back around to cut him off on the other side of the lake.

Swiftly, he swung the man around so that the brunt of his weight was floating, and just his shoulders were on Legolas' back as he hooked the human's arms around his neck.

"Hang on!" He commanded as he began to swim, but there was only a weak response. At least that was something. If the human wasn't able to hang on under his own power, they were both as good as dinner for the wolves… Speaking of which, they did not have much time for avoiding these.

The effort it took to swim was nearly tripled by the additional burden, and by the time they reached the mouth of the river, Legolas was breathless. Stripping the man of his cloak, he left it on the bank, since the additional weight of the waterlogged cloth would only slow them down. He considered leaving the man's pack as well, but he wasn't sure if he carried anything valuable. If that were the case, and the pack were to be destroyed by the wolves, when the man came to his senses he would very likely be just as infuriated with Legolas as he might be grateful for having saved his life.

At first, the elf tried to heft the man up onto his own two feet, supporting him with one arm pulled over his shoulder, but the human quickly buckled. They were dearly close to being out of time. Grinding his teeth, Legolas stooped and pulled the man over both shoulders.

The ranger's weight was astounding, but the elf managed to ignore it as he broke into a jog. One of the wolves had found the man's cloak, and the entire pack had ceased their pursuit to tear at it. That bought the two some extra time, but Legolas knew it was only temporary, and would never be enough to get back to the Oak. He mentally cursed his own stupidity for leaving behind his bow. At least he still retained his staff in its tube on his back, and his dagger. If it came down to it, he could fight with either of those. But first, he had to decide on a course of action, and quickly.

It wasn't much of a contest, and he swiftly altered course for the small cave just outside the mouth of the canyon. It wasn't far, and within moments he was pulling the now unconscious human through the narrow entrance, which widened into a small chamber deep inside the cliff wall. Whatever the claustrophobic properties of the place, it had been carved out by water long ago, and so poised no threat as far as cave-ins were concerned.

Propping the human up against the wall and discarding his own cloak, Legolas quickly returned to the cave entrance. It was narrow enough that only one wolf could advance at a time, and he hoped he might be able to fight them off long enough to convince them to take their pleasure elsewhere. It had worked before, although he had rarely had cause to tangle with such creatures in his travels. It was only the third time he'd ever been threatened in the valley.

The wolves themselves seemed content to pace in a circle outside the cave and wait for their intended prey to emerge. Just to be sure of their intended stratagem, Legolas waited several minutes, before choosing his dagger, and with careful concentration, mentally targeting the pack leader as it paced routinely in front of the cave. Waiting for it to complete its circuit and begin to turn, Legolas hurled the dagger. Its wet impact easily distinguished its accuracy, and the pack quickly scattered as their leader fell, its breath gurgling around the hole in the beast's throat as it fought death's throes.

Pleasantly surprised at this unanticipated ease of victory, Legolas waited cautiously for their return, but it seemed that they were content with the loss of just one in their efforts. Relieved, and now newly aware of his wounds and exhaustion, he retrieved his dagger. He contemplated just leaving the carcass where it was, but he knew it would be wasteful. He was never in want, but he had learned to stay that way by taking advantage of every natural resource made available to him. He dragged it close to the entrance for safety, and with speed born of practice, quickly skinned the animal and tucked the pelt into his leather belt. He threw the remaining pieces into the woods, and again drew the human's bulk onto his aching shoulders.

By the time the two had reached the Oak, it was snowing lightly, but picking up volume by the minute. Legolas' hands were numb, and his clothes caked with ice. Barring the door securely behind him and dropping the wolf pelt on the floor for later treatment, he somehow managed to get the man up the ladder with strength born of pure will.

He was completely drained as he collapsed in front of the waning fire, but he knew the human was still in need. He pulled a blanket off the pine-bough bed and spread it on the hearth, where he laid the human and carefully stripped him of shirt, tunic and boots.

His movements were lethargic and slow with exhaustion, but he knew it was now that he had to pay careful attention, lest he make a mistake in his detached state. Without sight, he could not afford to be distracted. Spreading the human's clothes and the contents of his pack out on the hearth across the fire from the unconscious man, he placed several logs on the fire, and then finally allowed himself to slide down the far wall into a sitting position. Even from here, he could feel the warmth of the newly blazing fire, and if the temperature waned, he would awaken.

Even as he told this to himself, his eyes slipped shut, and his hands went limp on the staff across his knees.

Outside, the wind continued howling.

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Warmth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling to wake up to after so long in the wilds. At first, his sleep-fogged mind told him he was back in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, where the bards and minstrels told songs and sang stories long into the early hours of the morning, and he and his brothers would fall asleep by the fire, listening. The first thing that he realized to discount this was the fact that there was no music. Only the comforting crackle of the fire close to him disturbed his thoughts, and then the distraction was welcome.

Slowly, he let his eyes slide open, lighting at once upon the hypnotic weave of the flames before him. But what had happened? He was falling— Memories rushed back, and then he was fully awake. He _had_ fallen, he remembered that much. And then he had struck something: water, he thought it was. There had been a voice, and he had wanted so badly to answer, but he couldn't seem to make his voice work. And then a pair of hands, gentle and strong…. And then nothing.

He blinked twice, with full recollection—if it could be called that—and studied the ceiling. It was of an odd texture, since it seemed to be made of one smooth piece of wood… But that was impossible. With some difficult, he propped his elbows up beneath him, lifting his head and shoulders off the ground to look around him. The room he was in was… not a room, he realized at length with amazement. He was in a tree. Sitting up completely, he gingerly examined himself. He wore only his breeches, and his body felt like one enormous bruise, but amazingly, he had no sprains, broken bones, or other more serious injuries.

He stood gingerly, and was glad to find he could walk with little or no trouble once he was fully awake, and set about exploring the room fully. It was… amazing, to say the least. There was a table made entirely of branches and tied with peeled bark, and shelves made the same way, stocked with every kind of natural food. Some he hadn't even known were edible. There were two knotholes in the walls, one on each side of the room, and both were covered with makeshift cloth and branch shutters, through which the air outside was a sheet of white snow and biting wind.

After donning his dry tunic and repacking his bag, the contents of which now also being dry, he found a vine and branch ladder on one side of the room leading to a hatch above. He hesitated only briefly before climbing up to investigate. The room above was small and dark, and he was inclined to descend the ladder once more for a firebrand. Upon closer exploration, he found it to be some form of bedroom.

A neat bed of pine, much like the one below, stood next to a low table made of a flat tree stump. On this lay two long, ivory-handled knives, and an assortment of small throwing and hunting daggers. These were all of exquisite craftsmanship, and Aragorn found himself rather surprised to realize that whoever his mysterious host might be, he was obviously no stranger to weapons. In addition to these things was a pack of clothes in one corner beside a long, slender bow and quiver, the latter well-stocked with hand-fletched arrows.

Curious and a little awed by the mysterious host he had yet to catch a glimpse of, the ranger quickly retreated back to the fire, under the distinct impression that whoever this man was, he would be very likely to not welcome a stranger prowling about in his private affairs.

Nearly two hours passed, with nothing occurring more interesting than the fire running low. Aragorn, glad to be moving about in some form or another, took his time in adding logs from the neat stack against the wall. He was beginning to wonder if the man from his memory even existed at all, and this was merely some dream, or even a vision from the Valar. He might be in a coma for all he knew, or even dead.

This fantasy was not to last however, since, just as he began to nod off once more, he was startled as a hatch in the floor banged open. The trapdoor had been in an empty corner, and until it was opened, Aragorn hadn't even realized it was there.

His shock was complete, when, instead of a man, an elf emerged, his long, golden hair flowing past his shoulders. He wore earth-hued tones, and the warriors braids that held his hair back clearly defined his gently peaked ears. A tube of leather on his back held a long, smooth wood staff.

Feeling suddenly awkward, the ranger stood to help, since the elf, still oblivious to the human's wakefulness, was struggling with a load of firewood as he tried to manage an five logs in one arm and the ladder with the other.

"May I be of assistance?" He asked softly as he knelt, reaching out to help.

To Aragorn's surprise, the elf started violently, nearly dropping the entire load before Aragorn managed to grip two of them and set them on the floor. The elf didn't say anything but swore under his breath as, relieved of his burden, he was free to grip the ladder with both hands.

"Yes, you may be of assistance in fact. You may refrain from doing that again…" He growled.

"I—I'm sorry…" Aragorn quickly tried to apologize, offering his hand to pull the elf up. "I thought you knew I was there."

Both his offer and apology were ignored, although the being seemed to struggle to make it up on his own. It was only after the elf shut the trapdoor and stood to face him, brushing off his tunic, that he nodded curtly and brushed past him, still not making eye contact.

"Uh—" Aragorn was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable as he scooped up the forgotten logs and added them to the original stack. "I, um… Suppose I owe you my life. I don't know how to thank you—"

"Don't bother."

Aragorn blinked. "Well then—"

The elf sighed, turning towards him and stopping him from speaking with an upheld hand. "Forgive me. I don't mean to seem rude." He hesitated, passing one slender hand over his eyes. "It's just… been a long night."

Aragorn had once been told by a fellow ranger that he could make friends with a rabid Warg, but at that moment, he felt anything but confident in making any progress towards this strange creature. His human, childish side was bursting with questions and curiosity, but the adult, ranger side of him needed to repay everything this stranger had done for him.

"Don't mention it." He finally shrugged. "I think… we merely started out the wrong way. I am Strider, of the Dunedain." He grinned, offering his hand and praying that it would be accepted.

The elf smiled slightly back, but made no move to take the truce. "Legolas."

Aragorn shrugged and dropped his hand. Well, at least he'd smiled…kind of. That had to be a start.

"Of?" The human prompted good-naturedly as he sat cross-legged on the hearth.

"Just Legolas." Came the clipped response as the elf turned away, with no offer of explanation. "Do you eat deer?"

Aragorn nodded, and then realized the elf couldn't see him with his back turned. "Yes. Again, you have my eternal thanks for all you've done—"

"And again, you don't have to bother." Legolas returned as he constructed a spit over the fire, leaving several strips of venison to roast.

"Do you—" He began, and then switched questions. "Do you mind me speaking?"

Another unconvincing half-smile as the elf handed him a water skin, and seated himself across the fire from the human. "No, I don't. But to save you the trouble, I will answer your questions now. Yes, I am an elf. Yes, I live here, yes, alone, yes, in the middle of nowhere, and no, the snow will not have let up by tomorrow. My guess is that is will continue snowing at least two days more."

Aragorn could only blink.

"Was there anything else?"

"I, uh…" Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. "If there's any way I can repay you… For all—"

"There isn't, so don't worry yourself with trying." At last, a hint of amusement in the elf's voice. That was progress. "Where are you from, Strider?"

"I—" He hesitated. "I was encamped with the rangers in the Brown lands, and was on my way across the mountains when the storm hit. I guess I must have stumbled over a cliff around here… I'm still not sure exactly what happened."

"Yes, you fell— into a lake thankfully. If you're wondering what happened next, I pulled you out and brought you back here."

"What about the wolves?" Aragorn asked, intentionally catching the elf off guard.

Legolas looked up sharply, studying the human's face for a moment.

"I heard them chasing you before I blacked out." Aragorn explained.

It was still a moment before the elf answered defensively. "I—they were no trouble." He quickly switched topics." On the other hand, you had quite a fall. Are… you alright?"

"What?" Aragorn frowned momentarily, and then remembered that he had been unconsciousness. "Oh, yes. Nothing bruised more than my ego." That wasn't exactly true, but the initial soreness really had worn out and the dull ache that remained had faded to nothing more than a distraction.

Legolas nodded, shifting forward to turn the sizzling meat.

"And you?" The human returned, noticing now the elf's painful movements and bloodied tunic.

Legolas stiffened. "I'm fine." His words were clipped and booked no argument.

Aragorn sighed, but thought better of saying anything to the contrary, however obvious, and instead turned towards the covered window. "How long will the storm last, by you?"

"No more than two days." The elf repeated as he removed the meat from the spit and passed it on a bark platter to the man. "And yes, after that you should have time to leave before the snows hit again. If you are seeking a way across the mountains, however, the path to them from here is long and difficult. You should head southeast until you reach the Old Forest Road, and from there West across the mountains to the Loudwater. I assume you live in Bree, or Archet? Close abound there?"

"Well, I travel there often," Aragorn groped, unsure of what he should say. "But I don't exactly live there. Your advice, however, is much appreciated."

There was a long, awkward silence between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire as it licked at the burning logs. Legolas crouched across the hearth and prodded randomly at the flames with a branch, more than content to ignore his human companion.

Aragorn, on his part, was becoming ever more curious about this reclusive, enigmatic elf who dodged all of his questions at the same time that he answered them. He never looked Aragorn in the eye, and he refused to come anywhere near him. The human knew it might be all in his own mind, but he had the distinct impression that there was more to the woodland being than first met the eye.

Outside, the wind howled mournfully.

Eventually Legolas sighed, rocking back on his heels. "The truth is, human," He admitted bluntly, "that I don't want you here anymore you want to be here. You're young, and obviously have a lot to learn. Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary, because in this life, you're never going to be thanked for helping someone. That's just the fact of it. And people aren't always going to be kind to you either. The only reason that I didn't just leave you out there in the cold for the wolves is that I know what that's like, and no man or elf deserves that. You'll be on your way in a day or two, you'll never hear of me again, and the less you know about me the better. So don't get comfortable."

Finishing, he stood and threw the stick into the fire, and, nodding at Aragorn, climbed the ladder to the small room above.

"If you need anything, help yourself." The elf called down once he was out of sight. "If the tree is burning down, you know where to find me."

Aragorn cringed as the hatch slammed shut, and the chamber was quiet once more. Sighing heavily, he stretched out on his stomach and let his chin rest on his forearms as he stared into the fire. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get off on the wrong foot with this strange elf, but he had no intention of leaving things as they were.

Maybe he did ask too many questions.

He smiled at this, as it brought back memories of his father and brothers, the twins having informed him of this countless times over the years. How he missed them both. And Elrond. His smile faded with memory. If Lord Elrond had been there, he would know exactly what to do, and exactly how to reach out to this lonely being.

He might not be his foster-father, but tomorrow, he swore, he would do his best to try.

-;-.!\.-;-

Reviewer Responses:

-;-.!\.-;-

**Aisu Dragoness**: You'll have to wait and see! Thanks for reviewing!

**viggomaniac**: Thanks for the compliment and the review!

**Spewilicious**: Yeah, I had fun experimenting with Legolas' blindness. I guess it's kind of a trend now though, and a popular one with Nightwing6's story out there, but I've had the first part of this written for forever. I will try to stay away from the norm, though. Thanks for reviewing!

**Keji**: Thanks, I'm glad you like this! This series is going to be kind of my LotR Fanfic masterpiece, so I am devoting a lot of time and effort to it. The good thing, though, is that this story is already entirely complete! All I have to do is move my lazy butt and upload the chapters, lol. Yeah, I love Legolas angst too! I'll try to give Aragorn his fair share, but I'm afraid this entire series will probably favor everyone's favorite elf just a little bit more! Thanks for the review!

**Legolass Q**: Hey there, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad my story is an exception, but who said anything about a sad ending? (evil grin) Good to hear from you!

**Bill The Pony2**: Well, I'm glad my story doesn't put you to sleep! That's a good sign, right? Lol, Thanks for the review!

**shireling**: Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you like my writing! Likewise, I really enjoyed your review--I love it when people tell me exactly what they liked (or didn't) about the story instead of something really general. Hope you keep reading!

**Redleef**: Aragorn is officially into the story! I'd be careful calling Legolas' father a jerk if I were you-- "Even the very wise cannot see all ends..." And you'll have to wait and see if Legolas can shoot--because I'm evil that way! Lol, thanks for reviewing!

-;-.!\.-;-

Also many thanks to:

**SpaceRoses**

**Ilaaris**

**Tommylover**

**horsiegurl**

**Twilight Unicorn**

**DarkStarofMirkWood**

**slytherin-rox-my-sox**

**theo darkstar**

**Twilight Shadow**

**silverkonekotsukari**

**Elflingimp**

**Dee69**

-;-.!\.-;-

Thank you one and all for dropping in, and I hope to see you next update!

Toodles!

-Skande


	3. Emotions And Apologies

-;-.!\.-;-

Chapter Three: Emotions and Apologies

-;-.!\.-;-

Legolas groaned aloud as he sank down onto the bed of pine needles in the chamber above the fire room. His wounds ached fiercely, but right now he was just too exhausted to even try to treat them. He had dozed off for a few moments earlier in the night, but had woken when the wind had blown the window open. After that he had kept himself busy to avoid the temptation of sleep by bringing up firewood from the store below. Now that the human was awakened and well, he could finally let himself rest.

Speaking of the human… He groaned again and rolled onto his side, shivering in his wet clothes. He hated himself for the way he'd treated the man. He'd had no right, and yet he'd let years of pent-up anger, frustration, and bitterness leak out, if only slightly, towards a curious young human who was nothing like the men who had blinded him so long ago.

And as his chest tightened, he knew he'd hit the mark right on. It was the fact that Strider was a man.

For some reason, he'd been too much of a coward to let the human know that he was blind. He'd deceived him, and although he'd often wondered if he'd be able to pull it off, the man had never suspected his sightlessness. For that he almost felt guilty. And yet, the very thought of anyone else knowing, now, after so long and everything, terrified him.

And most of all, the man was just that: Human.

At one time, he'd never had anything against men. The elves of Mirkwood did business with the wine-makers up in Esgaroth occasionally, and although he found them rough and uncouth, he had yet to see any real harm in their race. Until the battle that had cost both his sight and his mother's life.

It had been men. A man had struck the blow, as he had watched, that had pierced his mother's heart. It had been a man, as he struggled to reach her, that had lashed out with a jagged, poisoned sword, cutting from one temple across his eyes, and slicing all the way to his jaw line. It had been a man that had shattered every piece of his life forever.

His mother's death, his own blinding. The two simultaneous, joined events that played over and over again in his mind, filling every waking moment of every day, all the more vivid because it had been the last thing he had ever seen.

And as he curled into a ball, gripping the worn-out blanket as he fought to hold onto his pain inside in silence, he tried to block out those memories. He groped blindly in the darkness for a shred of something good. Of light, of trees, of birds, of Mirkwood. Of his father. And yet always it returned the image that had seared itself into his mind for life. The one thing he could always see with perfect clarity.

Death.

-;-.!\.-;-

"_Roaming through this darkness, _

_I'm alive but I'm alone_

_Part of me is fighting this,_

_But part of me is gone."_

_-Three Doors Down_

-;-.!\.-;-

It was morning. Outside, the storm had found a rhythm, and the snow swirled through the valley in slow, easy cadence. Aragorn had been awake for hours, and truth be told, he was a little worried that he hadn't seen the elf that day. He knew he wasn't highest on the woodland being's like list, but he never would have thought that the elf would simply ignore him now. Aside from that, he really wanted to apologize.

But as of yet, he had no-one to apologize to.

He'd already helped himself to some berries and dried fish, and had even warmed extra in case Legolas was hungry. He definitely wasn't going to mention anything, but the elf was far too thin, even more than was usual for one of the firstborn. But, he supposed, if this was the way Legolas had been living for any amount of time, it was no wonder. Although great care had obviously been taken to preserve every infinitesimal resource the valley had to offer, it was just barely enough to keep a lone human through the winter. Aside from that, even close to the fire the room was chilly, and Aragorn could only imagine how it must feel in the chamber overhead.

There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he wanted to ask. And yet, he felt that if he posed one more inquiry about anything, the elf would explode. He hadn't been of the best temper the night before, and yet, when he thought back, he hadn't looked very well either.

Ceasing his pacing long enough to glance worriedly up at the closed trapdoor above, the ranger wondered how he'd missed such obvious signs. He was a healer, trained by the wisest herb and lore-master in Middle Earth, and yet his own curiosity had clouded his perception. Legolas had been exhausted, barely able to stand upright, and his answers and curtness of tone were clearly automatic. His tunic had been bloody and torn, and when Aragorn thought back, it struck him that there was a good possibility that Legolas had been wounded by the wolves before he'd rescued him.

He paused, once again looking upwards. If that were true, and he was too tired to treat himself, the elf might be very sick right now, which would be one explanation for his absence.

He should do something, he told himself.

As a healer it was in his nature to wish to heal, but he also felt he owed the elf. So decided, he picked up the torch Legolas had left on the table for him, and lighting it, ascended the ladder.

-;-.!\.-;-

"Legolas?" Aragorn called softly, holding the torch up to illuminate the small quarters. The elf was motionless on the bed, turned onto his side with his back facing the ranger. There was no response. Two wooden brackets hung by the door holding burned-out torches and Aragorn swiftly lit these, extinguishing his own.

"Legolas?" He tried again, a little louder, as he knelt beside the cot. With the light's aid, he now had full view of the elf's lacerated back, the jagged edges and pairing of three slashes confirming his suspicions. The wolf-inflicted wounds were infected.

A wave of guilt washed over him as he reached toward Legolas' neck to feel for a pulse. He should have realized the elf was in pain! It was what he had been trained to do as a healer, and yet he had still been too preoccupied with his own questions to notice. Then again came the question of why the elf had tried to hide it in the first place. Elves were proud creatures by nature, but it was rare for one to go so far as hiding an injury altogether.

He made a quick trip back to the fire room for water and rags, and was glad to find some basic medicinal herbs there as well. Most of them had painkilling properties, and he briefly wondered why Legolas kept them.

Upon his return, Legolas had not moved a muscle. His eyes were lightly shut, a sure sign of illness, and his breathing was slow and uneven.

Sighing once more, the human stripped the elf of his wet tunic and washed the cuts on his back, which were now red with infection and hot to the touch. He cut long strips from the worn cloth he had found in the lowest chamber, and used them to wrap the injury securely. The bite marks on Legolas' leg, however, were less serious. The wolf's teeth had torn deeply into the flesh and ripped muscle, and although it would be painful and slow to heal, Aragorn knew it would be fine eventually.

Tying off the bandage around the elf's calf, Aragorn began to roll the woodland being onto his back for want of a more comfortable position. Without warning, Legolas' eyes snapped open, and with a cry he jerked away, throwing himself backwards as he scrambled away from the human.

"Peace, Legolas!" Aragorn tried to soothe, shocked at this reaction. "It is only I, Strider—"

"No!" Legolas cried out again as Aragorn reached out to him, pressing backwards until his back met the wall behind him. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, his entire body trembling with fever. His bright orbs shone with panic as his back touched the wood and he realized he was trapped.

Aragorn quickly drew back, astonished. The elf had seemed so strong, so sure and resolute. And now… New guilt assailed him. All this time, and the elf had been merely… afraid of him. That explained everything. His curtness, his uncomfortable manner around the human, his hasty departure. It made sense now, leaving the human furious with himself for his own stupidity.

He had felt… threatened.

"I'm so sorry Legolas…" Aragorn whispered to the lightly trembling elf, who still stared at him with grey, unseeing eyes, whirling with veiled memories as if he was caught in some unimaginable nightmare. The human knew it should not have taken this to show him the elf's hidden unease. He should not have to see these raw, open emotions while the creature before him was at his most vulnerable.

Aragorn was torn from his self-condemning tirade as the elf's strength gave out and he slumped forward, the human catching him before he could hit the ground.

Alarmed, instead of laying the elf back down, Aragorn hefted his insubstantial weight over his shoulder and carried him down the rope ladder to the hearth, where the fire was waning. Placing him on the same blanket the elf had given Aragorn to use while he had been unconscious, the man quickly boiled some water in a small pot from his own pack, and using what herbs that had not been soaked by his fall along with the ones he had found among Legolas' food, he quickly prepared a healing brew for when the elf awakened.

Glancing worriedly at the creature's pale face, he again berated himself. If only he hadn't been so stupid! Feeling his forehead, the man was relieved to find that some warmth and color had returned to the elf's body, telling him that it shouldn't take too long before he was awake once more.

-;-.!\.-;-

Although he had no way of knowing it, it was well into the night when Legolas finally came back into awareness.

The sound of roaring flames was close by his ear, and that was just the first of many strange things he sensed around him. Secondly, he was almost warm, a feeling which he couldn't remember having felt for some time. The next was by far the most prominent, and just as unpleasant. His entire body was numb, leaving his mind with a detached, floating sensation. And yet he could still feel pain. His skin was warm but his body was chilled through, and certain parts of him—namely his back and lower left leg—felt to be on fire.

"Legolas?" He started as the human's voice from nearby pulled him from his self-ascertainment. He couldn't repress a cold shudder as he felt the human near him, a hand sliding under his head as a wooden cup was pressed to his lips.

"Legolas, if you can hear me, I need you to try to drink this."

Legolas' heart was pounding furiously. Here he was, too weak to even sit up, and at the mercy of a strange human who he only wished would leave. He never would have admitted it to himself, but the gnawing dread clawing at his heart was more commonly known as fear. And Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, could never show fear.

"N-no…" He whispered, involuntarily shrinking away from the man's hand. "just… leave me…" He couldn't stop the cruel, sneering faces of the enemy humans from long ago as they flashed before his sightless eyes. He just wanted it to end, all of it.

"No, Legolas, I won't do that. You were hurt by the wolves, and your injuries became infected. You need to drink this."

"Why?" Legolas choked out, cutting off and biting his lip as dizzying waves of pain assaulted his senses. He tried to turn away to hide his grimace, but Strider's firm hand on his shoulder kept him still. Again, he attempted to quash down the nauseating panic building inside of him. He was really, truly helpless. Trapped.

"Legolas. Legolas, look at me." The human commanded quietly when the elf did not at first respond. Against his will, Legolas cracked his eyes open slightly, and moved them towards just above the source of the man's voice, hoping the human wouldn't be able to tell he was blind. The last thing he wanted to do was display one more way in which he was vulnerable.

Aragorn waited until the elf looked him in the eyes. "I wont' hurt you, Legolas." He said sternly. "I would never hurt you, do you understand? I want to be your friend. You don't need to be afraid of me. "

"I'm not afraid of you—" Legolas countered defensively, unconsciously compounding the point. "And you… You don't want to be my friend…"

"Yes, I do, Legolas." The man returned firmly without breaking eye contact.

"You don't know me… You don't know… what I am, you—" Legolas struggled to speak around breaths. Everything was just so hard to do—Even breathing had become a task.

"I know that you have a good heart Legolas." Aragorn spoke softly. "No-one is perfect, and no-one needs to be. You saved my life, and that alone tells me what you really are."

Legolas exhaled heavily without response, head lolling as awareness teetered dangerously. Again, the human cupped the back of Legolas' head and tried to get him to drink.

This time neither the man nor the elf's current situation allowed for argument, and Aragorn was encouraged when he managed to get Legolas to drink most of the cup before he passed out once more.

Setting down the cup and pulling the blankets up around Legolas, Aragorn sadly wondered what had happened to the poor creature that had driven him into seclusion and loneliness for so long, because obviously, the elf had been alone for quite some time. The way he had developed the place that was now his home attested to that, and again, questions barraged his mind. Glancing back at the silent elf, Aragorn stood and cleaned up the slight mess he had made on the table, and then made an extra bowl of the painkilling mixture for when the elf did awaken again.

And that, he hoped, would happen very soon.

-;-.!\.-;-

When Legolas did awaken, it was morning once more and Aragorn had just returned from an exploratory excursion out into the snow, which had ceased sometime in the night.

The elf, now rid of the fever that had plagued him during the night, was feeling humiliated and deeply ashamed of himself for both the way he had treated the human, and the deep emotions he had shown to him in his vulnerability.

Aragorn spread his wet coat out near the constantly blazing fire and sighing, took a seat across from the elf, who had managed to situate himself at the small table.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Aragorn blinked, having not expected such a remark from a creature who had been deathly ill just the night before.

"I—I was wrong to treat you the way you did. I wasn't thinking clearly." The elf recited quietly.

"No, don't be sorry. We could continue blaming ourselves all day, but I also believe it was mostly my fault. As a guest in your home, I was rude to ask so many questions. In your situation, I would have been impatient with myself as well." He smiled. "But aside from that— Would you like something to eat?"

"And here I was supposed to be the one helping you." Legolas smiled softly as he shifted in his chair. "You don't even know your way around here—"

"I do now." Aragorn grinned as he slid a wooden plate of berries and dried fruit in front of the seated elf. "I took the liberty of acquainting myself with the place, since it seems we may both be stuck here for a while. I hope you don't mind?"

"No, no." Legolas said quietly, absent-mindedly picking at the food as he stared ahead into the fire.

It disturbed Aragorn more than he wanted to admit that the elf would never meet his eyes, although he didn't dare ask why. He didn't want to set back what little friendship might be beginning to form between he and the woodland creature.

"Legolas?" He called softly at length.

The elf glanced briefly towards him.

"I—" Aragorn hesitated when the elven eyes dropped to the plate before him as he picked apart a berry with long, deft fingers. "I meant what I said yesterday… I really do hope to become your friend."

"Strider…" Legolas sighed awkwardly, his voice quieting so much that Aragorn had to lean forward to catch the words. "You—you don't know me. Friendship is weak and faulty at best… a fleeting thing."

"It doesn't have to be." Aragorn countered firmly.

"I—perhaps it's just… I don't know what real friendship is.' He admitted at length, still looking away.

"Then you've truly been missing out on something, Legolas." Aragorn replied seriously. "Had you never a brother, or father?"

The human realized at once that this had been the wrong thing to say as a tangible shadow quickly passed over Legolas' white face. The elf shook his head, swallowing. "No." He whispered, looking quickly down. "No."

Silence prevailed for many long moments, and then, without warning, there came a loud crash from the room below that made them both jump.

Legolas, alarmed, began to stand, but Aragorn quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Speaking of friends," He explained in amusement, "Wait here."

The human departed, leaving the elf in obvious confusion, but after a few more moments of noise from below and selected muffled expletives on the part of the ranger, he reappeared at the hatch.

"Surprise." The man shrugged sheepishly, and a moment later Legolas was again startled as something warm and wriggly was deposited in his lap.

"What is it?" He asked, mystified, as his long hands came up to contain the squirming ball of fur.

"I _think_ it's a "he", actually," Aragorn admitted hesitantly, "and I _know_ it's a wolf."

"A _wolf?_" Legolas exclaimed in alarm as the pup gave a short whine and struggled to lick at the elf's face.

"Relax!" Aragorn defended himself laughingly. "It was half-frozen when I found it, and I couldn't just leave it out there! Besides—" His eyes sparkled mischievously as he took a seat across the table from the elf. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Well, yes but—" The elf was cut off as the puppy nearly flipped out of his arms and over onto the floor in his antics. "A wolf cub?" He carefully set the energetic puppy down, its legs pumping mid-air in it's enthusiasm to be off. "They—they grow! And then they eat more, including things—and people— that you would rather they not."

"Oh, you're being too serious." Aragorn taunted. "Besides, I can tell that you like him. He likes you."

It was true. Although the furry bundle departed several times to dash headlong around the room as if to assure itself nothing had changed since it's last lap around, always it would return to Legolas' chair, rubbing at the elf's legs as if for reassurance before he set off again.

Legolas sighed in exasperation, but Aragorn did not miss the new light in the elf's eyes and the gentleness with which he patiently handled the tiny wolf cub.

_Progress, at last. _

-;-.!\.-;-

A gajillion thanks to:

**silvertoekee**

**twilla**

**Psycho Demon-Witch**

**Tatie-Valie**

**silverkonekotsukari**

**AND:**

**Aisu Dragoness:** Legolas will (of course!) eventually be reunited with Thranduil, but I'm afraid you'll have to stick around a while yet! I don't let my characters off that easily, lol! Thanks for reviewing!

**Redleef:** You've got it—Legolas is a hermit, and Aragorn a wandering recluse at the moment. ;-) lol Thanks for dropping a line!

**Shireling:** Thanks again for another fun review! ;-) I'm glad my scenarios were believable—my sister thinks my stories lack variety, since they're usually about one or more lonely heroes, etc., but It's what I do, lol. Also, I find it easy (probably a little too much so) because I feel the same way a lot of the time. I'm usually too deep for people to talk to, so I end up not talking at all, which can wind up being pretty lonely. It's why I love to write. :-) (Uh-oh! That alone was probably too deep, lol!) Still loving your reviews, and hope you stick around!

**Setrinan:** Hey, who said anything about straying from canon? ;-) No-one knows what Legolas went through before FotR? And who's to argue, especially if I don't keep him blind? Lol (Uh-oh… you're learning all my secrets!) Glad you liked the story so far, and thanks for the review!

**MsyticNight:** I have you hooked? Wow, I can now hold my head high as an author, Lol! I have officially "hooked" a reader! Thanks, and keep reading!

**Legolass Q:** I promise, no sad ending! But it's good to know you still would have read it. I know I wouldn't have, lol! I hate sad endings!

It sounds like I know wolves well? Wow, thank you for the compliment! I like to think I know at least a little about them, since they are one of my favorite animals, but I wouldn't call myself an expert. ;-) I do try to study up on anything I write about, or at least shy away from those topics I don't know very well—all for realism's sake, of course.

Agh! You're right, I accidentally signed my last chapter as Skande! Guess I'm a little too use to my other account, lol. Glad you like the tale so far, and thanks for reviewing!

**theo darkstar: **Wow, you sure are easily amused, Lol! Here's your name again. :-) Does it sound like Legolas can see? I hope not—he does have highly advanced senses aside from sight though, so sometimes it may sound like he knows what's happening a little better then he should. :-) Hope it's not too confusing! Glad you like the story!

**Kyra1:** Yeap, Aragorn's sure going to live up to his warm-fuzzy-feeling-human reputation and play little-Elrond to everyone's favorite elf! Thanks for reviewing!

**Amon-ra1996:** Thanks for mentioning it, I did not know the anon. reviews were disabled. That's all fixed now, thanks! So glad you like the story this far! Keep reviewing!

**Elflingimp:** Did I say he saw Aragorn's face? Whoopsie! I'll have to go back and look for that, thanks for mentioning it! Thanks for the review!

**Twilight Shadow:** Yep, this whole story is already complete! It takes so long between updates simply because I usually don't have time to respond to all the reviewers, Lol! But I love y'all anyways! And don't worry, you got your message across! Glad you like my writing and the story!

Until next time, everyone! Namaarie!

-Glimpse


	4. Winter's End

-;-.!\.-;-

Chapter Four: Winter's End

-;-.!\.-;-

Surprisingly enough, after the initial breaking of the ice between man and human, time went rather quickly from there. Legolas reluctantly agreed to let the wolf remain with them after Aragorn found its mother, very clearly dead, but the elf let it be known in no uncertain terms that it was in no way a permanent arrangement. Come spring, "that mad animal" was going straight back to the wild where it belonged. Aragorn only smiled knowingly whenever the elf took time to reiterate this, knowing the woodland creature was far too attached to the animal, and vice versa, for any such transfer to take place.

The wounds on the elf's back mended quickly, but his leg injury healed in the opposite manner, improving only very slowly. Although he refused to admit it, Aragorn knew that what little moving about Legolas insisted on doing was very painful for the elf, and although he leaned heavily on his staff for support, even the slightest weight was strenuous.

The most Aragorn could pull out of the woodland creature as far as his own history went were occasional vague hints about a past that must have been, at least for the elf, much brighter than his current existence, and events that must have been much darker. Still, Aragorn did all he could to win the elf's trust, and the hours of many long, snowy nights were spent across the fire from each other, while the man told long, ridiculous stories about the adventures of he and his brothers, and although Legolas rarely even smiled at even the most humorous antics, he did ask many questions, which was improvement in itself.

Legolas himself usually spent these times sprawled on his stomach across the fire, carving away at some kind of animal figurine with his daggers while the still unnamed wolf lay draped across his legs or curled up, pressed close to the elf's side, to whom he had become instantly attached. The wolf himself was both a burden and a constant source of amusement for both of them. Most of the time he was either tearing around the room like a creature possessed, or in a deep, undisturbed slumber never far from Legolas. Both man and elf wished the dog could find some sort of balance between the two extremes, but it was unlikely to happen.

Though both suspected it, neither was entirely sure that the other was keeping something from them. In Legolas' case it was his blindness, and perhaps he was entitled to a little secrecy. He still suffered frequent painful headaches as result of the old wound, never properly healed, but he always managed to keep these from Aragorn. The human, on his part, did not wish the elf to know of his connection's to Lord Elrond or Rivendell, since he wanted the elf to trust him fully as a human, as a ranger, and as Strider, _before_ he knew about his elvish past.

Despite these things and the differences between the two, only Legolas was unaware of the slowly forming bond that grew deeper between them as the winter waned. On Aragorn's part it was a conscious effort, and he was overjoyed when the elf began to open up to warmth and kindness. He was never willing to trust him completely, or open himself up enough for any kind of glimpse within, but Aragorn realized that this reserve was not even a conscious effort on the elf's part. Old habits were hard to break, and Legolas certainly had quite a few to work on.

-;-.!\.-;-

"_And I want so bad to open my eyes_

_But they're all I have to hide behind_

_And I want so much to let you see_

_But all I fear's inside of me."_

_-Stoked_

-;-.!\.-;-

It was early spring. The heavy snows had melted away on the valley floor and the first green shoots of new life were appearing everywhere. The canyon pass out of the valley was still blocked with heavy layers of ice, but down below, woodland life was preparing to fall back into its usual routine.

Back at the Oak, Aragorn watched skeptically as Legolas moved around the room, using his staff for balance only occasionally. He still retained a heavy limp, but since he assured the human it was no longer as painful, he was prepared to let the woodland creature up and about. Throughout the winter, the elf had been on his feet only rarely and then strictly without the human's consent.

According to Legolas, the human had become his "mother hen," which was, for the most part, an accurate description.

"Well?" The elf questioned breathlessly as he ceased his circle of the room.

Strider grunted and sighed reluctantly. "I guess if you take it easy—"

Legolas laughed aloud and the wolf joined in with an ecstatic bark before the human could even finish speaking.

"I said take it easy!" The human laughed along, overjoyed himself to hear Legolas do so, however briefly. It was the first time since he'd met him. "Now sit down and let me check it again."

Sighing good-naturedly, the elf humored the man and maneuvered into the branch chair, bracing himself as Aragorn checked the still healing gashes.

"Where did you learn so much about healing, Strider?" He asked, grinding his teeth even as he spoke to distract himself from the pain as Aragorn worked.

"Um, my father…" Aragorn deadpanned. "He's a healer. I, uh, had a knack for it, and so he taught me."

"And your brothers?"

Aragorn laughed. "They know the basics, but it never really caught their interest. They enjoy horseback riding and swordplay more, as do I. One thing, however, that I could never quite pick up from them is archery."

"Archery?" Legolas repeated.

"Mmhmm." Aragorn nodded, unconvinced, and he would have smiled if Legolas had not been looking at him. He had dropped that particular subject intentionally, hoping it might draw Legolas into discussion. "I saw your bow upstairs. Any good?"

Legolas laughed softly, his voice tinged with bitterness as Aragorn finished and he stood once more with the aid of his staff. "I once thought so." He said quietly, eyes distant.

Aragorn shrugged. "I'm sure you haven't lost your knack, then. What say we go target practicing today?"

Legolas glanced briefly at him. "I—I don't know Strider—" He hesitated.

"Don't worry about it! As an elf, you can't possibly be any worse than me, so you don't have anything to be troubled about." The human teased lightly.

Legolas offered an unconvincing half-smile without looking at him. Even after all this time, he never looked the man in the eyes, and every time he noticed this it discouraged Aragorn. The man stood where he was for a moment as Legolas moved past him and knelt by the fire to stoke it. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself. He'd been decided on this matter for quite a while now, and now seemed as opportune a moment as any to tell the elf about the only thing he'd been holding back so far.

He sighed heavily, looking down.

"Legolas… I know you still don't really trust me." He said to the elf's back. "I guess you don't really have a reason to. But even so, _I_ trust _you_. You saved my life, and have been nothing but kind to me. And I owe you the truth. I was raised in Rivendell, and my foster-father is actually Lord Elrond Peredhil. He—he took me in when my real father was killed by orcs when I was two, and it is he who taught me about healing. I lived in Imladris until I was twenty, and then left to join the Rangers. I _was_ on my way home when I came here, but not to Bree. To Rivendell."

Legolas had frozen when the man had started to speak, and now his chin dropped towards the fire as silence prevailed for several tense minutes. "You…. You're Lord Elrond's… son?" The elf tentatively rejoined at last, his voice small and doubtful.

"Foster-son." Aragorn corrected with a smile. "And my real name is Aragorn. Strider is merely an alias I use among the Rangers."

"Aragorn."

"Now—" Aragorn said lightly in an attempt to change the subject, rubbing his hands together, "Are we ready to go? I must admit, it's been far too long since either of us have been out of this place."

He helped pull Legolas, still in a state of slight lethargy after these revelations, to his feet, and handed him his staff.

"I'll get your bow." He clasped the elf lightly on the shoulder and made a quick trip up the ladder for the elf's bow and quiver, retrieving his own long sword on the trip down.

A moment later they were both leaving the woody refuge for the first time since the beginning of winter, and although it was a landmark occasion for them both, (in more ways than one) not a word passed between them until they were far from the tree, the wolf bounding ahead through the traces of melting snow still on the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Legolas asked softly as they walked, eyes glued on the ground ahead.

Aragorn sighed, but he had expected that question. "I wanted you to trust me first as Strider, the human: Not simply because of my past or because others trust me."

Aragorn watched the elf's face carefully, gauging his reaction, and wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when the woodland being only nodded thoughtfully.

"And, what about you?" He prompted gently. "Now will you tell _me_ where _you're _from?"

"Stri—Aragorn…" The elf hedged. "I—I guess you could say my reasons are close to yours, except that I don't want you to _doubt_ me because others do or because of my past. It would be better for us both if you didn't know." Clearly closing the topic, Legolas sped up his step to push ahead of the human.

"Well I don't know now, and I don't think its better." Aragorn rejoined, quickening his pace to keep up. "Can it really be so bad?"

"I…I can't tell you who I am. I'm sorry. You would only shun me, Aragorn. Everyone else has." Legolas murmured back, obviously very uncomfortable with the discussion.

"Every other elf, you mean?" The human prodded, "And I thought you didn't care."

"I—" Tortured silver-blue eyes glanced up at Aragorn pleadingly. "I'm sorry."

Aragorn sighed, but didn't push it. The elf continued walking with his head down, golden hair curtaining his face from the man's view as he leaned heavily on his staff with every step.

The man was disappointed, but he knew better than to try to pull information out of the elf he considered his new friend. He wasn't sure the feeling was mutual, but, true to his elvish namesake, he was determined to break through to the enigmatic being.

"There's a field not far ahead that should be clear of snow by this time of year." Legolas intoned. "We can head there…" The elf glanced quickly at the man, suddenly unsure. "That is, if you—if you're willing."

Aragorn tried not to smile at the elf's hesitance. "I am, Legolas." His smile faded quickly as the elf stumbled, the man reaching out an arm to steady him as they paused. "Are you sure _you're_ up to this, though?

Legolas nodded breathlessly, straightening and pulling his arm away. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Don't be—" The human smiled in amusement, and then realized the elf had stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Str—Aragorn." The elf began carefully, sighing as he leaned on his staff. "I don't know why you're so determined to be friends, if that's what you really want. But you need to understand… I live here for a reason. I live on my own for a reason, and if you want trust between us… Please trust me when I say I believe it's a good enough reason for things to stay the way they are. Don't try to change things beyond your power. It only leads to hardship." He glanced quickly up at the man, and then away again. "You have my gratitude for all you've done for me, and I know I just seem rude and ungrateful… I just…" He hesitated again, biting his lip as he searched for words. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to…"

"I know Legolas." Aragorn said softly, clasping the elf lightly on the shoulder. "I know."

They resumed their slow pace, soon joined by the wolf, who was obviously curious as to what was taking the two so long. The silence between man and elf was suddenly not uncomfortable, and the human smiled as they walked, touched by Legolas' rare display of emotion. The woodland creature's words heartened the man immensely, especially since he was sure he had never heard the elf speak so long at one time in the past several months.

"Aragorn?" The man looked up and realized the elf was looking at him strangely. "This is… This is the place." He murmured, averting his silver gaze.

The human looked around and realized they stood on the edge of a wide, rolling meadow, where the grass was soft and green in the first flourishes of spring and the birds made homes in the branches of skirting trees. Several startled deer caught wind of them and bolted into the trees on the other side of the field, and Aragorn smiled.

"This is amazing…" He breathed, glancing at Legolas. He was surprised to see that the elf was also smiling, his eyes closed and his head tipped ever so slightly back as he breathed in the fresh air.

"Valar, I've missed this world…" The elf murmured quietly, his voice holding a subtle undertone of grief and pain that went far deeper, meaning far more than the few months he had been trapped in the protective refuge of the Oak tree.

Aragorn looked at the elf with a serious expression for a moment longer, before tearing his thoughts away and removing Legolas' weapons from his own back.

"Shall we?" He offered the elf his bow and quiver, and Legolas took them with no further comment than a short nod.

"I don't think…" The elf began quietly as he checked the string, "I—I haven't shot this in a long time."

Aragorn sighed, but warned himself to be understanding. If the elf had reasons for his hesitance that he did not wish to share with the human, that was Legolas' business and none of Aragorn's. "Very well." He conceded with a disappointed shrug. "I don't want to force you to do anything."

Legolas sighed himself, but nocked an arrow to the bow and lifted it. "Target?" He questioned flatly.

The man grinned, searching the land across the field. "How about…" He pointed across the grass. "That tree, out there."

Legolas frowned. "Strider, there are dozens of trees in that direction."

Aragorn laughed. "The one with the broken branch, closest to us."

-;-.!\.-;-

Legolas nodded, relieved at the human's choice. Closing his eyes—for mental purposes mostly—he raised the bow and threw his senses outward, his ears straining for the sounds he was looking for.

The grass roared as it bent before the rushes of wind that bent their tips to the earth in wide, rippling waves. He tuned it out. Birds loudly declared their love of the spring morning from every branch around them. He blocked out their songs. The human's quiet, but obvious breaths close by. He ignored it.

There.

Marked by the wind, the broken branch the human had mentioned creaked and shifted. Even from across the meadow he could hear it with enough concentration, though faintly. From the way it brushed the trunk of the tree it was still attached to, he could tell it was slightly to the right of the center of the trunk. He altered the path of his arrow by miniscule degrees, allowing for wind speed and force as well as the downward arc of the arrow's trajectory.

From this distance, any err in estimation would mean missing the tree altogether, and then his secret would be out.

For this, he was not yet ready, and so his plan was simple.

He just had to hit the tree.

-;-.!\.-;-

Many thanks to reviewers:

**Gilraen **

**MCross**

**Tatie-Valie**

**Eye of Newt**

**anne **

**Stephy **

**kel **

**silverkonekotsukari**

**Elflingimp**

**pris **

**shireling**

**Moto **

**Twilight Shadow**

AND, last but not least:

**theo darkstar:** Well, if Aragorn had been looking for signs that something was wrong with Legolas he would have noticed, but although Legolas is trying to hide it he's not doing a perfect job. All for a little realism, you know:) Thanx for the review!

**Galithil**: Thanks for the compliments—I'm glad I'm able to pull off a Legolas-being-blind story at all! Here's your update!

**Allonym**: Whoa! _I'm_ a "well respected writer in the fandom"? Why didn't I know this? Lol! You just made my day! Thanks a million for the review, and I'm very glad you like the story. Hope it doesn't go south for you!

**moonlit-leaf**: Thanks for the review; glad you liked it! And you're so right, it is getting very difficult to find good new stories to read in this section. :)

**Deana**: Hey again; long time no see! Thanks for reviewing!

**Seylin**: No, Aragorn doesn't know of Legolas' blindness yet—you'll know when he does! Thanks for popping in!

**Redleef:** You're right; I'm sure a normal person wouldn't have a 'light in their eyes' while blind, but I wanted to make Legolas seem like he isn't blind—whereas if he _looked_ it, I'm sure Aragorn would notice. ;) It helps with the effect! He'll find out sooner or later, don't you worry! Thanks for reviewing!

--

Thanks again to all reviewers and readers—see you next update!

-Glimpse


	5. Mysteries

-;-.!\.-;-

Chapter Five: Mysteries

-;-.!\.-;-

Aragorn watched, surprised as the elf took aim with his eyes shut; still handling the weapon as if he had been born holding it.

The son of Arathorn had grown up with elves. He knew how they walked, talked, lived, grieved, and fought. He would have readily considered himself to hold a fair knowledge of their ways and habits.

And yet he had never in his life seen any elf move like Legolas did, especially with a weapon in his hand.

In Elladan, Elrohir, and even his father occasionally, or Erestor or Glorfindel, he saw amazing talent with weapons of all kinds. Every movement was smooth and precise, speaking of raw power and years of perfected practice and training.

Legolas was different—much different. Although exuding the same illustration of talent, Aragorn received the image when watching him that his power came not from past or practice, but from somewhere deep inside of himself. The weapon in his hand was no longer merely a weapon, but instead an extension of his shoulder, arm, and hand. He drew it as if the movement were not only second nature, but an act as natural as breathing. As if he had always known how.

The archer's eyes remained shut as he adjusted his aim, his face a mask of concentration. And then the elvish weapon sang as the tension on its string was released and the deadly projectile flew away from it.

"That was…amazing…" Aragorn breathed after a few long moments, eyes still locked on the quivering arrow protruding from the exact center of the tree a hundred yards across the clearing.

"What was?" Legolas asked curiously, glancing up at the human as he lowered his bow.

"That shot—" Aragorn explained lamely, gesturing towards the tree.

"That wasn't a shot. That was firing an arrow at a tree." Legolas frowned, confused. "Anyone could have done it."

"Yes, but, the way you did it…" Aragorn shrugged. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I thought you lived in Imladris, among the elves. Do they not practice archery at all?" Legolas was still oblivious to the source of the man's amazement as the elf flopped down into the grass.

"Yes, they do… But nothing like that." Aragorn threw himself down beside the elf, his elbows holding him up as he sighed and shook his hair out of his face.

Legolas lay back in the grass, folding his long hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "I didn't know there could be a difference…" He murmured wearily.

Aragorn glanced at him, then back out at the plain of grass, rippling in time to the light breeze.

"This reminds me of the last day I was home." He said out loud to himself. Not surprisingly he received no response, but still continued. "My brothers wanted to take me hunting, so I went with them. I should really know by now not to trust them, but since I was leaving the next morning I honestly didn't think they'd try anything. We were riding along the river, and 'Ro yelled something ridiculous about a snake and jumped me. He still says it was intentional, but to this day I hold that he over-calculated, since we both ended up in the river. 'Dan's horse was spooked by the noise, and after dumping my brother, he took off for home. Of course, the other two animals followed. We spent half the night walking back, two of us soaking wet, only to hear from a servant that my father and the rest of the household had been out searching for us since evening, fearing the worst when our horses came back without us."

Aragorn trailed off, laughing softly to himself. Wolf trotted over to curl up by Legolas' leg, panting heavily after his adventures chasing wasps across the field.

"What happened?" Legolas murmured quietly without opening his eyes, and the man glanced at him in surprise, having been sure the elf was not listening.

"Well," He continued, smiling, "I'm still not sure what happened to the twins since I stuck to my plans and left the next morning, but as for myself— my father couldn't quite take me over his knee. Although by the look on his face I'm sure he would have tried if I'd been five years younger."

Legolas opened his eyes, and blinked slowly at the sky as if he hadn't even heard what Aragorn had said. "If you're Elrond's foster-son…" He spoke aloud, "The twin brothers you've talked about so much… Must be Elladan and Elrohir."

Aragorn nodded. "Did you ever know them? I, for one, have never heard them mention a 'Legolas'."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I knew them. I suppose if I ever did have friends, they would be the closest thing to it. And they probably wouldn't talk about me. We didn't see each other often."

"You lived in Mirkwood, correct?" Aragorn took a stab at what had been his guess all along.

"Yes." Legolas nodded thoughtfully, before grimacing as the Wolf stood up and accidentally jarred the elf's leg.

"You alright?" Aragorn asked quickly as he began to sit up.

"I'm fine." The elf returned a little testily, obviously getting to the end of his patience as far as the man's mothering habits were concerned.

"Sorry," Aragorn chuckled, leaning back on his elbows and returning to the dandelion he had been picking apart. "It's what I do. Speaking of which…" He glanced sideways at the elf. "I meant to ask you… When I first came here, you had a goodly supply of painkilling herbs among your food stores. What did you use them for?"

Legolas glanced at the human edgily. "I… I get headaches…" He returned haltingly.

"Headaches?" The man echoed, stopping plucking at the weed in his hand to frown at the elf. "How bad are they? You never complained."

"I—I haven't had one in a while." The woodland creature lied, shifting slightly.

"Mmm-hmm." The human frowned, unconvinced. If he had learned one thing about the mysterious elf over the winter, it was that he was strangely self-conscious, especially as far as injuries were concerned, and he often refused to admit it even when he was in obvious pain.

"Aragorn?"

_Must be an elf thing…_ The man mused smilingly to himself. His brothers both suffered from the same malady, although granted, not as seriously as Legolas.

"Aragorn, are you alright?"

The human snapped back into the present and fought the urge to laugh at the elf' concerned gaze.

"Aragorn!"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine Legolas!" The man finally laughed aloud. "Just thinking."

Legolas shot the man a strange look, sitting up and pulling his uninjured leg up to his chest, clasping both arms loosely over his knee. "Aragorn…" He deadpanned, studying the ground as of it had suddenly become one of the most interesting things he had ever seen. "I… I should… I need to tell you something that… That I haven't…"

Aragorn's heart lurched as the meaning of the elf's words sunk in. Was it possible that the elf finally trusted him enough to speak about himself? Now that it came down to the fact of it, Aragorn suddenly wasn't sure he was even ready for it. What if the elf was a fugitive, or a murderer, or…? Aragorn angrily scolded himself. No matter what the elf was hiding, he knew it couldn't be as horrible as any of those things. Whatever the woodland being's faults, bloodlust and dark inclinations were not among them. The elf's soul was pure light, and if even he, a human, could so easily see that when Legolas himself apparently could not, whatever the elf was hiding was very likely shameful in his own eyes alone.

"I—I know that I've—" The elf began uncomfortably, before his head snapped up and his startling gaze locked on the far tree-line. "Do you hear that?" He asked abruptly, struggling to stand.

'Hear what, Legolas?" Aragorn scrambled to his feet and helped the elf up, frowning in concern as he strained to catch a sound.

"Hoof-beats." The elf returned quietly, eyes locked on the woods just opposite their position.

Aragorn followed his gaze, and within moments, he too became aware of the vibrations of hoof-beats, obviously traveling at a swift pace— canter or gallop by his guess, although the fact that there was more than one set confused his perception somewhat. If he'd asked, Legolas could have told him the riders traveled at a canter, and that there were but two of them.

As fate would have it, the elf had no need for imparting this information to the human, for it was mere moments before the horses emerged from the trees and the man could see for himself.

He gasped aloud, stepping forward and away from Legolas. "Elladan! Elrohir!" He called out, dropping the sword he had picked up at Legolas' warning. 

Elrohir, who was in the lead, pulled his horse up short in surprise, but Elladan spurred his own onward with a whoop. They met in-between, the older twin almost throwing himself from his horse to envelop his brother in a crushing bear-hug.

"Where have you been, you filthy human?" Elladan laughed aloud as he pulled away, joined a moment later by his twin.

Aragorn, still laughing himself, replied in kind. "Right where I'm standing, you intolerable dwarf!"

He laughed again as he danced away from his foster-brother's playful cuff, before happily embracing both twins once more. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy." Elrohir informed wryly.

"True—" Elladan jabbed, "For some reason we began to miss you, cranky old woman that you are—" It was now Elladan's turn to dodge a blow.

"And so we rode out to find you." Elrohir picked up. We met up with the other rangers, but Halbarad told us you'd set out for Rivendell over three months ago.

And trust me little brother, "Elladan threatened with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "You may expect to pay dearly for making us track you all the way out here!"

"I didn't _make_ you, oh wise and mighty hunter," Aragorn piped up tauntingly, "And it's certainly not fair to blame me for _your_ inadequacies!"

"Speaking of here…" Elrohir intervened before his brothers launched off into another verbal sparring match, "Why isn't '_here_' on any of the maps in Rivendell? Where are we, Estel?"

"There's only one person who really knows." Aragorn sobered, guiding his brothers back towards where Legolas still stood, quiet and still, and as of yet, unnoticed.

Elladan frowned in confusion, about to question the meaning of his brother's words when, without warning, his rich brown eyes locked with a pair of sterling silver ones tinged with blue.

There was only one being in Middle Earth, man or elf, that had eyes like that.

Elrohir noticed his brother's shock and paused to follow his gaze. "Legolas?" Elrohir breathed, eyes widening as he spotted the golden figure standing behind his human brother. The woodland creature took an uneasy step back in cadence with the twins' forward.

Aragorn watched their reactions carefully, noticing the crushing shock and overwhelming joy that alternated across their faces.

"Legolas!" Elrohir gasped breathlessly, stepping forward to pull the other elf into a tight embrace.

Legolas tensed at the sudden touch, but slowly relaxed in the elf's arms.

"Valar, Legolas…" Elladan was still in shock as Elrohir pulled away to give the older elf his turn.

"Legolas… They thought you were dead." Elladan murmured, studying the elf's face as if he still couldn't believe he was really there.

"Why did you leave?" Elrohir asked gently.

"I couldn't stay." Legolas finally spoke, eyes on the ground. "I had no reason to."

Elladan swore. "What about your father, Legolas? How can you be so selfish? It was hard enough losing your mother, and he's had to live all this time thinking you were dead, as well?"

Legolas paled, but stood his ground. "You have no idea what happened, Elladan."

"You'd be surprised." Elladan returned icily. "My father led a battalion of elves to Mirkwood's aid. We arrived late, but by the time we reached the palace you were already gone. We know what happened."

"No, you don't." Legolas ground out in a similar tone.

For several long moments, the air crackled between them with tension as they glared at each other. Elladan looked away in frustration first, but when he lifted his eyes again, the elf was gone, Aragorn stepping forward for an explanation.

"Legolas, wait!" Elladan called, pushing past the human to dart after the fleeing elf.

"Elladan!" Aragorn called after his brother, but the older twin either didn't hear him, or wasn't prepared to listen.

"What was that all about?" He demanded of Elrohir, who stood with his arms crossed, staring sadly at the ground and shaking his head.

Elladan soon returned, shaking his head. "He just…disappeared!"

"It's no wonder!" The human snapped. "He's lived in this place for years; he knows every inch of it, and I'm not sure you had any business confronting him like that."

"It's what he needed." Elladan sighed. "But you're probably right, it's just… Valar, if he has any idea how much he's been missed… How much grief he's caused…"

"What's going on here, Estel?" Elrohir questioned quietly as he looked from one to the other.

"You tell me! He won't." Aragorn gestured in the direction Legolas had gone. "I've been staying the winter here while the pass was blocked, but he hasn't told me anything about himself."

"All this time…" Elladan was staring numbly at the ground. "And he was…here…"

"Who is he?" Aragorn was getting impatient. "It's about time I got some real answers."

"He hasn't told you…anything?" Elladan sighed, looking back up at his brother.

"Anything?" Elrohir prompted, looking in hesitation to his twin.

"Estel…" Elladan started haltingly. "You never… noticed anything about him?"

"What?" Aragorn was becoming quickly angry. "What are you talking about?"

"'Dan—" Elladan began to speak, but was cut off by a warning from his twin brother. "It's not our place. Legolas needs friendship right now, not accusations."

"Estel," Elrohir sat down beside his twin brother on a nearby boulder, "Tell us everything."

-;-.!\.-;-

Well, let me say that this is to be a very quick, informal update so all my fans don't kill me! I don't have time to respond to reviews right now and even if I did I'm too tired to try: So if you have a question or comment that absolutely, positively HAS to be answered RIGHT now, feel free to message me! Sorry it took this long, but until next update, thanks: You know I love you all!

-GoA


	6. Culmination

-;-.!\.-;-

Chapter Six: Culmination

-;-.!\.-;-

Legolas had little difficulty assuring himself that Elladan would be unable to follow him. With his knowledge of the land he easily traversed the forest, halting his flight only upon reaching the topmost chamber of the tall Oak—far from Aragorn and the twins. He realized Aragorn would probably bring the twins back there eventually—but Legolas had nowhere else to go and he'd have to face them eventually in any case, whether it was sooner or later. If it made any difference, however, he would rather it be later.

His heart was torn by turmoil like he'd never known before, and it physically hurt. This world was supposed to be strong, safe, comforting. And then Aragorn had, literally, dropped into his life of shadows, and for the first time in years he'd found a shaft of light within it. He should have realized back then that things were beginning to crumble.

He bit his lip to hold back a groan; his leg throbbed mercilessly, as he had spared no time for rest in his trip across the forest.

What now? Strider doubtless knew by now what he'd been hiding, and he still wasn't sure himself why he cared so much. What did it matter if the human knew? Why did Legolas care what a human thought?

Why?

Because whether or not he had wanted to admit it to himself, it had felt great to have someone believe in him. It had felt great to be uninhibited. To feel like he could say something and the man wouldn't doubt him, or do something and not have doubt hanging on his capability. It had felt great to know that someone really wanted to be his friend; that someone really, truly cared about who and what he was, about how he felt and what he thought.

It had been bound to shatter. Every word Elladan had spoken in temper and haste had pierced through Legolas' façade like crossbow bolts, striking straight and true and wounding deep. Valar, what he would give just to have everything the way it was… If not when his mother was alive and his eyesight restored, then at least when he had been alone here, safe and secure in his comfortable seclusion.

Curled on his pine bough pallet in the darkness of both the room and his mind, Legolas tried to stifle the dry sobs breaking from deep within his chest as he pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face in his arms.

He was so tired. So sick of it all. Of being empty inside and frozen beyond care.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to cry out at the injustice of it all, wanted to die. He just wanted to see again. He just wanted to be himself again.

He just wanted to live again.

-;-.!\.-;-

_And I pretended everything was alright_

_Didn't want to show how hard it was simply not to cry_

_And I showed the world that I could be alright_

_Even though without myself I didn't felt alive_

_And I'm so blind_

_And everything's so clear_

_And I've been left behind_

_Looking everywhere but here_

_For what's been there all along…_

_-Stoked_

-;-.!\.-;-

"And that's my side of things." Aragorn finished his retelling of the events of the last three months. "Now… Who _is_ Legolas? Where's he from, and what happened to him?"

"It's not our place to tell you what happened to him." Elrohir repeated firmly. "But if he hasn't told you, I suppose you'll know soon enough that he's Legolas Thranduilion, of Mirkwood."

Aragorn gasped. "The son of Thranduil?" He repeated in surprise.

Elladan nodded. "Prince of Mirkwood… Supposedly, the _late_ Prince of Mirkwood."

"So…" Aragorn had recovered from his initial shock. "He's just let everyone think he's been dead… For how long?"

"Close to twelve years now." Elrohir sighed, running a hand through his long, dark hair.

"_Twelve _years?" Aragorn echoed incredulously.

Elladan nodded, tracing a pattern in the dirt with the toe of his boot. "I shouldn't have said that to him…" He murmured guiltily. "Where do you suppose he's gone?"

"I've not the slightest." Aragorn shrugged. "But you should see where he's been living… Positively amazing. We should probably wait for him there, since he's bound to return sooner or later."

Elladan nodded and stood beside his twin brother, who had noticed Legolas' forgotten bow and picked it up.

"So he's kept it all this time, huh?" The younger twin laughed softly, running gentle fingers over the well-worn wood.

Elladan sighed and took it from him, inspecting it in kind. "He sent us running from many an archery match with our tails between our legs with this weapon… He was an amazing shot back then. Rumored to be Middle Earth's greatest archer."

"'Back then?'" Aragorn repeated, confused. "Should he be different now? He's still brilliant with it—I watched him shoot myself."

"What?" Elrohir stared at his brother, and Elladan demanded an explanation. "What do you mean, 'you watched him shoot'? With this? Today?"

"Yes! Is that… unusual? I don't see why that should surprise you…" The human defended, now thoroughly confused.

He received no explanation, but the twins both laughed fondly at what seemed to be a fact only they knew. "That's Legolas for you…" Elrohir murmured with a chuckle. "I should have guessed he'd find a way to…" He trailed off, irritating Aragorn as the man found himself still in the dark about the whole matter.

"Well, we should probably find him." The human said pointedly, whistling to call the confused Wolf to his side. Each deep in his own thoughts, Aragorn led them back to the Oak where he'd spent the winter with an elf whose past and personality seemed only to deepen with mystery the more he came to know him.

Hopefully, whatever words spoken from here on out would resemble explanations more than questions. Because the Valar only knew there'd been enough of those to last the man the rest of his life.

-;-.!\.-;-

_What would I give to see again?_ Legolas asked himself. He needed to know for his own sake. Simply losing his ability to see had ripped away his entire world. If he _could_ see again, did he truly think it would be restored? If he told himself the truth, he knew nothing could ever be the same again, whether he could see or not.

His mother had been murdered in front of his eyes. His father had shunned him. His home had turned its back.

No. No, nothing would ever be the same.

And so, he had no choice. After facing today, he had no other option but to keep going. With his haunted, empty existence, nights of restless turning and days of aimless wanderings, he would keep going. Because there was nothing else.

Strangely enough, there was still one thing; one realization reaching out to him through all of this. He may have lost his sight, but might he not have gained something far more precious? Aragorn had proven, time and time again, that he actually cared. Legolas had been cold, he had pushed him away, and yet the human had persisted, offering friendship with open hands and no strings attached.

He might be blind physically, but he had no excuse for his mental blindness towards the man he had saved, and then promptly shunned. As soon as possible, he determined, he would make things right with Strider—or Aragorn, or Estel… Whichever he preferred to be called.

Speaking of which… His keen hearing detected voices far below him, signaling that the trio had indeed found their way back. Doubtless, wanting answers.

Sighing and standing to straighten his tunic and compose himself, Legolas schooled his features into an indifferent mask. This would be hard enough without emotional interference.

Squaring his shoulders, he reached down and pulled up on the handle of the hatch.

-;-.!\.-;-

"This place is incredible…" Elrohir muttered as Aragorn led them into the bottom chamber of Legolas' stronghold.

"Typical." Elladan commented wryly in response. "Legolas _would_ live in a tree…"

"So you both knew him well?" Aragorn queried patiently as his brothers gaped at the hand-hewn architecture of nature itself.

"Legolas is— Or I should say _was_, since I don't know what this entire matter has done to him— one of the purest, most beautiful souls left in Arda. Adar himself has said it, and we all know he does not make such statements lightly."

"Yes," The human conceded dryly. "But I have yet to discover what the 'entire matter' even is. In case you had both conveniently forgotten, I am the only one still in the dark about all this."

Aragorn led the way up the swaying ladder to the Fire room, where they were all surprised to see Legolas crouching by the hearth and stoking the dwindling flames.

An awkward silence dominated the chamber, which seemed entirely too small of a sudden despite the airy openness of the uncovered knotholes looking down into the valley. Legolas finished his work on the hearth and stood stiffly, pulling up a chair and dropping into it heavily, slightly favoring his left leg.

"Legolas?" Strider ventured at present, his voice small and uncertain.

Legolas beckoned them all forward. "Sit down." They did so, Legolas leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I'm just… sorry." He whispered aloud, cradling his head. "I'm sorry."

Elladan swallowed the lump in his throat, kneeling by the elf's chair and gripping his shoulder supportively.

The fire sputtered and crackled as a log scattered into ashes.

"Have you told him yet?" Legolas' voice was steady now as he regained his resolve, soft and resigned.

Elladan shook his head, then realized his mistake and answered verbally. "No, Legolas. We didn't. We didn't feel it was our place."

Legolas nodded, addressing the human. "Aragorn…"

Again, the strange churning returned to the man's stomach, warning him that he was about to be told something that afterwards, he might wish he no longer knew.

"Aragorn." Legolas continued firmly, eyes staring blankly ahead into the fire pit. "I owe you an apology. I've been lying to you."

Aragorn blinked.

"I am from Greenwood, but I have not told you that I was the son of Thranduil… King. I was once a prince…"

"And still are, Legolas." Elrohir inserted firmly. "Naught has changed in that respect."

Legolas sighed, but made no comment on this as he continued. "My mother was killed there…" Legolas' voice faltered. "In a surprise attack by a nearby clan of wild-men. They rebelled against our kingdom's boundaries, and ambushed a diplomatic envoy on its way to Imladris. My mother was in the party. I led the patrol that was to escort them."

Aragorn swallowed, knowing where this tale was going as Legolas' glazed, pained, eyes reflected horrific memories. The elf continued.

"I was the only one to survive… And then just barely. I don't know why it was me… I don't know why I didn't die with her… Perhaps it was punishment for what happened… I don't know."

Elladan and Elrohir glanced at each other in sorrow, since it was the first time even they had heard the entire story. Upon their arrival in Mirkwood, they had been privy only to second-hand accounts from healers, guards, and the warriors that had rescued the Prince. Not even the elves in Mirkwood knew what had really happened since, as had been explained, Legolas had been the only survivor.

"I saw the man that rushed at her with a scimitar…" Legolas was lost in memory now, even unaware of the others in the room with him. "I froze, for just one instant. I could have shot him down. But… I didn't. I was... I was weak. I let pain and weariness, and everything I shouldn't have felt in the middle of battle take over… And then a soldier—a human, on horseback struck me in the face with his blade…" Legolas swallowed hard and looked down, seemingly coming out of his trance.

"That was the last thing I ever saw." He whispered at last, and eerie silence permeated the room once again.

Even the twins were shocked, but of all of the things Legolas had said, one thing had struck Aragorn like a stone fist in the gut.

_That was the last thing I ever saw…_

It all made sense.

Too much sense.

The way the elf handled his staff, walking with it tapping the ground ahead of him. The way he never looked the man in the eye or accepted his physical gestures of friendship. The way he became edgy if Aragorn was too quiet while the man was in the room. Everything pointed towards it, and yet again, he had missed what was right before his nose.

"You're blind?" Aragorn exclaimed aloud a little sharper than he had meant to, but he instantly regretted it when Legolas flinched.

Elrohir shot him a disapproving glare, and Aragorn cringed.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean for it to sound like that—"

"No need." Legolas cut in sharply, his face cold once more as he glared into the shadows. "I know what you're thinking."

Legolas was ashamed of himself, for actions both past and present. Here he had resolved to simply tell the man and get it over and done with, and he had ended up making a pathetic fool of himself—telling not one but _three_ people what he had kept locked up inside of himself for so long.

He was swift to reconstruct his barriers of indifference, but inside, he just hurt. More than ever now that it was all out in the open.

-;-.!\.-;-

"_There's another world inside of me_

_That you may never see_

_There's secrets in this life that I can't hide_

_Somewhere in this darkness_

_There's alight that I can't find_

_Maybe it's too far away_

_Maybe I'm just blind_

_Maybe I'm just blind."_

_-Three Doors Down_

-;-.!\.-;-

Aragorn didn't know whether to be horrified or relieved.

"You have no reason to be sorry." Elrohir whispered firmly from across the fire pit. "The fact of the matter is that you lived. Imagine your father's grief if he had been told that not only his wife, but his only son were no longer living? It would have killed him, Legolas."

"He didn't care about me…" Legolas whispered, and Aragorn felt is heart clench in pity as Legolas tried, and desperately failed to hold up his crumbling façade. The elf… The Prince, was torn apart inside, and he dearly needed the comfort that had been so long denied him.

"Of course he cared, Legolas!" Elrohir assured the elf, "What you were unaware of is that he _did not know_! He didn't know until our party arrived and my father forcefully entered his chambers. He was so consumed by grief that he hadn't even heard of your blindness yet."

"He…he didn't know..?" Legolas haltingly sought conformation as he gathered himself with a deep breath.

"No." Elladan picked up. "He was devastated when he found out that the entire time he'd been grieving, you'd been struggling with your own ailment. When he discovered you were missing…"

Elrohir picked up again where his brother trailed off. "The entire kingdom searched for you for years… We all did. We looked everywhere, even to the border of the mountains."

"But… I left… How can he forgive me for that?"

"The pressure was too much, even for you. You and your father were both going through hard times; he simply didn't realize that you were in just as much pain as he. Grief can blind people too, Legolas. " None of them missed the intentional metaphor in Elrohir's words. "You had no-one to support you when you needed it most. Many would have taken far more drastic action than you did."

Legolas groaned, leaning over his knees and running the long fingers of one hand through his hair.

"I… I don't know what to do…" He whispered aloud, bewildered.

"Come back with us, Legolas." Aragorn urged.

Legolas' sightless eyes came up now, a mirthless smile flitting across his features. "What about you, Aragorn?"

"What about me?"

"After all this time, nothing to say? No comments, questions?"

Aragorn reddened slightly. "No, no—And I fear I owe you an apology for that."

"Yes—" Elladan tried to lighten the mood, "The human has an abnormal fear of silence. He feels he needs to always be talking—" The twin grinned under Aragorn's returned glare.

Elrohir cleared his throat pointedly to bring the bickering brothers back to the levity of the situation.

"Legolas…" Aragorn addressed the quiet figure, who, despite being surrounded by friends who only wanted to help, seemed completely frightened and alone. "You do have a home waiting for you. You have a father who loves you, and a kingdom that misses you. They all miss you sorely and want you back with them."

He paused. "And Legolas, this changes nothing between us. If anything, you have even more of my respect and awe. Even without sight, you have lived here on your own for years, looking out for yourself, and even me when I lived up to my human nature." He added with twinkling eyes and a glance at his brothers. "You can live, shoot, and fight with as much skill as any sighted person, if not more for your reliance on the world around you." Aragorn paused to glance at the twins, now flanking the prince. "But you can't go on like this. It'll kill you, if not physically, then emotionally."

Aragorn watched in discouragement as Legolas simply sat there numbly, showing no response to the human's words.

Strider sighed. "It's time you let someone help you, Legolas. Admitting that is not weakness. Let us help you." He gently took Legolas' hands from where they were wrapped around himself. "Let _me_ help you."

Legolas raised his sightless eyes to meet the human's, and Aragorn was stunned at the depth and volume of the turmoil within them. It was the first time Legolas had ever looked him in the eyes, and now that Aragorn knew why this was, it was all the more astounding that he was able to do so now.

"No-one's ever wanted to." Legolas whispered, his voice breaking along with his resolve as one crystal tear spilled from his brimming eyes to trace a lonely path down his pale cheek.

Unable to contain himself, Elrohir knelt beside Legolas and wrapped his arms tightly around the Prince. Even Elladan nearly lost his composure at seeing the stoic warrior with silent tears running down his face.

Legolas sighed deeply, letting out a long shuddering breath as he buried his face in Elrohir's tunic and let himself relax. Aragorn smiled, gripping the Prince's shoulder supportively. Legolas' free hand came up to grip Aragorn's firmly in return, and then the Prince looked up at him.

"Thank you…" Legolas whispered, and smiled— A real, full smile that lent light to his face and brilliancy to sightless eyes. "…_Mellon-nin_."

-;-.!\.-;-

Wow! I'll bet all y'all wondered if I'd fallen off the face of the planet, huh? Well, to make a long story short and basically inform everyone who probably couldn't care less, I've been so busy with school, music lessons, and home reconstruction, that I haven't posted in... Well how long has it been? I don't even remember; a couple of months at least! There have also been some security issues, if you know what I mean, so I had to lay low for a while and change my pename. But I'll be sixteen tomorrow (Yay!) so I wanted to end off the year in a good way with all my fans! I love you all, and I wish like heck I had time to reply to reviews, but if you want an update at all you'd better take what you can get:-)

Love you all-- (Vote for Kellie Pickler for AI!)

-GoA


	7. Namaarie

-;-.!\.-;-

Chapter Seven: Namaarie

-;-.!\.-;-

_Three weeks later…_

-;-.!\.-;-

"Legolas…" Aragorn sighed as he clasped the elf on the shoulder. "Are you sure you won't change your mind…? You won't come with us?"

The valley around them was in the full blossom of spring, the wind whipping relentlessly at everything not weighted down, including the two friend's cloaks and Legolas' long golden hair. It whipped about him, stinging at his face and eyes, but he seemed not to notice it.

Legolas smiled sadly, but shook his head. "I'm sorry Estel. Maybe someday… But I'm just not ready yet."

"Take care of him, Wolf, you mad animal." Aragorn said with a grin to the animal as he knelt to bid the creature farewell. The wolf whined softly and licked at the man's beard in silent consent to his request, worded in jest but meant in earnest.

"You do know that someone will have to tell your father that you're alive?" Elladan asserted as he led his mount up beside the human. "If he learns it from us, Valar knows he'll probably torture us until we tell him where you are. He never was the sort to be kind to the messenger."

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. "I will return before he is pushed to such measures." He half-smiled, but the scenario was far too serious for any real humor.

"On my travels back north," Aragorn promised firmly, "I will come back, and go to Mirkwood with you if you are ready."

Legolas nodded.

"We're going to miss you, Legolas." Elrohir said softly. "As ever, it has warmed my heart to see you, and to know that you are still with us. My father will be overjoyed."

Legolas managed a full smile at the mention of Lord Elrond. "Give him my greetings." He said softly. "And tell him he has my eternal gratitude… For his son, Estel, brought me hope…" He smiled at the human. "When he told me that it takes not eyes, but sight to see."

"We shall tell him, Legolas…" Elladan assured the elf as he mounted his horse, who was prancing impatiently. "But we hope that you will be able to do so yourself soon enough."

Legolas' smile widened slightly. "You may count on it."

Elrohir sighed, as if searching for farewell words for his old friend. He finally settled for simply embracing the Prince a final time, and then swung up behind Elladan, which left the last horse ready and waiting for their human brother.

Aragorn turned back to Legolas, and each regarded the other for several long moments as the wind whistled between them. Wordlessly, Aragorn extended his forearm, keeping the movements of his arm beneath the leather coat noisy enough for the elf to detect.

Smiling, Legolas returned the grasp.

"Friends?" Aragorn grinned softly.

"The best." Legolas returned seriously, pulling the man into a one armed embrace, their hands still clasped between them.

"I am honored to call you friend, human," Legolas teased lightly once they parted. "However I fought it at first. Now I name you such without hesitation."

"And I you…" The man returned smilingly. "As I hope to for many years more."

"You will." Legolas replied confidently with a gentle smile as he gave the man's arm one more squeeze, and stepped back. The moment broke, and the man turned, jabbing his boot into the stirrup of his mare's saddle and swinging up.

"Farewell, Legolas." The twins offered simultaneously.

"Farewell." He nodded to them. "If fate is good to us both, I hope it shall not be long ere our paths cross once more."

"Namaarie, Estel." He turned to the man, reaching up and handing him one of the small daggers that he treasured so much.

"Namaarie." Aragorn returned solemnly, accepting the gift. The highest form of honor an elf could give to a human beside a vow of friendship was a weapon as a gift, which symbolized complete trust. Aragorn felt humbled to have gained both from Legolas.

With a nod Legolas stepped back, and Elladan spurred his horse. Aragorn's steed wheeled and followed, more out of habit than any real command from its rider.

When they reached the edge of the meadow, Elladan and Elrohir continued riding on through the trees. Aragorn on the other hand, paused and wheeled his horse back around towards the Prince.

Legolas stood, a lonely sentinel of gold in a world of rolling green. Aragorn raised his hand in silent farewell, knowing the elf couldn't see but hoping he would feel it. To his pleasant surprise, the Prince returned the signal, and Aragorn grinned widely.

Clicking to his mare, Aragorn turned and disappeared into the trees.

-;-.!\.-;-

Legolas listened as the hoof beats of the brothers' horses faded into the distance. He could pick up the distinct pace patterns of each horse, just as he could tell when one of the animals halted just shy of the trees. He smiled, and raised his hand in the silent farewell he knew the human also offered. The hoof-beats picked up once more a moment later, and he slowly dropped his hand to his side.

He stood on the grass-covered knoll by the same now-empty field where he had first reunited with the twins. The wind roared with a driving vengeance despite the bright sunlight filtering through the leaves, threatening to blow him over and carry him across the field.

And as one lone elf melted into the foliage, trailed by a darker grey shape that might have been a wolf, he realized that this was not the end, as it seemed.

No…

It was only the beginning.

He was going to miss that human.

_-;-.!\.-;-_

"_Meet me there, _

_At the end _

_Of the long and the weary road_

_Bring the bond we used to share, _

_And remind me how it goes_

_But, _

_If you can, be patient please_

_All of this is new to me_

_But, _

_Don't give up, don't say goodbye_

_This time I'm going to try_

_Lift me up_

_Take me higher_

_Leave everything behind_

_Don't give up_

_We're on fire_

_That's what happens when we try."_

_-Stoked_

-;-.!\.-;-

_**THE END**_

-;-.!\.-;-

Yay! I finished it! Isn't everyone happy now? I haven't done much work on the sequel, but I've been thinking about it.

First off, I've gotta answer Lumberjane—Taylor, Chris, Kellie, and Mandisa are all my faves! I really liked Kevin too, but he got booted... Bummer.

And emily: Hmm, don't know quite how you got confused on the Thraduil thing—Basically, Thranduil locked himself up after his wife was killed, and only turned Legolas away back then because he didn't know he had been blinded. Later, when Thranduil found out, he was really sorry. Lol, sorry if the story confused you.

To all my other reviewers: Thank you all so much! I LOVE you guys! Your reviews, seriously, make my day! If I didn't get back to anyone, e-mail or message me or something! Again, thanks so much to everyone who stuck with me this far, and I appreciated all your comments and criticisms like you'll never know! So, until next time, tata!

-GoA


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